"D-do you live around here," he asked.
"Just up the road a ways." The lad studied his companion for a minute. "You stutter, don't you?"
"A little."
"There was a boy in my class who used to stutter. The teacher said it was because he thought so far ahead of what he said he got all tangled up." The boy reached in his basket for a handful of berries and chewed them thoughtfully. "She was always after him to talk slower, but I guess it didn't do any good. He still stutters."
"Is there a p-power plant around here?" Hall asked. "You know, where the electricity comes from."
"You mean the place where they have the nu-nuclear fission"—the boy stumbled on the unfamiliar word, but got it out—"and they don't let you in because you get poisoned or something?"
"Yes, I think that's it."
"There are two places. There's one over at Red Mountain and another over at Ballarat."
"Where are they?"
"Well—" The boy stopped to think. "Red Mountain's straight ahead, maybe ten miles, and Ballarat's over there"—he pointed west across the orange groves—"maybe fifteen miles."